Hold Me Closer Tiny Dancer
by tilleygirl
Summary: Just why did Jinx not become a real dancer? One shot.


Marshall angrily threw down his keys on the entry table. Mary had really found his last nerve today and jumped on it. It was only her second day back at work since she had been shot and she had been just plain mean to everyone today. Her behavior was reminiscent of the treatment Eleanor received after Brandi had been arrested; harsh, rude, inconsiderate, hurtful. Even with the gamut of emotions – fear, guilt, relief, guilt, joy, guilt - that persistently lingered in the aftermath of Mary's shooting, Marshall was feeling nothing but pure anger by the end of the day.

He knew something had happened at home, but Mary had so far been tight lipped. He tried to ask her what was wrong and was told in clear and concise terms to mind his own business, only in more colorful language. He moved into the kitchen and looked out into the backyard as he got a glass of water. Mary's abrupt, harsh treatment of him today was hurtful. Cruel words poured like salt in the open wound of his heart. After popping two Tylenol, he decided to do some work in the yard. Physical labor always helped when he felt angry...or hurt.

Marshall quickly changed into some old clothes as he began to think about his latest home improvement project. He had been constructing a trellis and was looking forward to completing the project. After several hours spent in the clear, cool air swinging a hammer and finally wrestling the trellis into place, his foul mood had dissipated somewhat. He wandered back into the house, contemplating what to fix for supper.

******************

Mary put off going home as long as she could. Pulling up in front of her house, she sat in the car and stared at the front door, thinking about the words that had been flung within those walls the day before. Words that could never be taken back. She tried to clear her mind, but memories of her fight with Jinx, followed by images of her repeated abuse of Marshall today, kept intruding. She had been a bitch all day. Marshall had borne the brunt of her distress and he didn't even know why. Mary knew she had pushed him to the edge. His temper had flared late in the day, something that rarely happened, and words had been exchanged. She had seen the hurt in his face before it was quickly hidden and he had lashed out at her. They had parted on angry terms.

The more Mary thought about the fight from last night and the course of the whole day at work, the more upset she became. As she replayed the scene with Jinx in her head, she knew she couldn't step foot in her house. Not yet. Not to subject herself to round two.

Mary threw her Probe into reverse and fled to the place she always did, the one place she felt peaceful. To the man with whom she felt safe. She had to make things right between them. She needed him, she needed to be able to turn to him, she needed to be comforted by him.

Marshall opened his door at the sound of persistent knocking. His surprise at seeing her was evident on his face. Surprise turned to irritation; his lips set and he crossed his arms, blocking the doorway and stubbornly refusing to invite her in.

"What do you need Mary?" The question was short and clipped. "Was there an insult you forgot to deliver?"

Mary took a step back. This was unexpected. Marshall was mad and he was holding on to it. She started to get her back up. She didn't need this, getting attitude from Marshall. Except she did need him. She crossed her arms in mirror of his and matched his set face. Her belly was starting to ache. She hadn't taken any pain pills since morning. Whispers of Jinx's accusations floated through her head as she groped for the words she needed to say to the man in front of her.

"I need to make things right between us," she said guardedly. _You're the reason I didn't become a dancer._ Marshall's impassive face didn't react. _You ruined my chance. _Mary closed her eyes briefly and gave a quick shake of her head, trying to still the shrill voice running through her thoughts.

"Today was a bitch." _I could have been on Broadway. _"I was ...rough...on everyone...on you, today." _I gave up everything for you!_

Marshall considered her coolly. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

Hurt, grief, resentment colored the voice that wouldn't go away; matched the voice of her partner. _You always think you're right. You never listen to anybody else. _She bit her lip and steeled herself to say the words that came so hard to her.

"Yes." Marshall continued to regard her silently. _I want you to quit! What do you do that is so important anyway? _"I'm sorry Marshall. I was out of line. I want to fix it with us." Her voice had dropped. The lengthening silence between them was starting to un-nerve her.

Mary wished the swirling echoes in her head would shut up. _Think about somebody else for once! _Her eyes slid down from Marshall's stony face and took in his stiff body and the ragged work clothes. She knew what those well worn clothes meant; Marshall was upset or angry and he was working it off. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She had driven him to this. She had upset him. Was there anyone she hadn't hurt? Was she a positive in anybody's life? _James didn't want to be a father. _It was worse when the strident voice had calmed down and simply made statements; horrible, painful statements. _He wasn't ready for children. And when Brandi arrived, he left._

Marshall watched the emotions flit across her face. Clearly an internal struggle was taking place. He felt his anger start to slip. It was impossible for him to resist her when she needed him.

"I can't have you mad at me," she whispered. "Everyone else is." _Drinking was the only way I could cope. I didn't feel pain when I drank. _Deeply tamped down emotions that had been percolating since last night, came bubbling up to the surface. As his face softened and his body relaxed, he made a slight gesture with his hand. She practically fell into his arms, the sobs so violent no words could be articulated. He drew her in, shutting the door with his foot and wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry herself dry. As the storm of her emotions began to abate, he cautiously turned and leaned against the hallway wall, the weight of Mary's shaking body easily supported against his chest.

She continued to draw in heaving, unsteady breaths long after the tears stopped. When she finally grew quiet and still, Marshall let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and rested his chin on her head. He closed his eyes, terribly afraid of what had happened to bring on such an emotional outburst. It had to be family related. Engagement broken? His heart lifted a bit at that thought, but no. Mary wouldn't be this upset. He felt that instinctively. Jinx fall off the wagon? No, that would bring anger, not tears. Brandi? What could Brandi have done? He was really at a loss.

She slumped against him for what seemed an endless time. Now that she was here, she was shying away from telling him why she was so upset. How in the world was she going to get away from him without explaining? The need for comfort had been so strong, that she had driven here without thought as to what she would say. There had been no one in her mind but Marshall. She hadn't even thought about Raph. She would have to consider that later; she couldn't face it right now.

Once Marshall felt her start to stiffen and emotionally withdraw from him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back slightly so he could look in her tear streaked face.

"We are going to sit down now, Mary, and you are going to tell me what is wrong." It was a statement, not an option and his arm clamped around her shoulders like steel as he drew her over to his sofa.

Mary unwillingly sat down, the firm pressure exerted on her shoulders by Marshall leaving her little choice. He really did have freakishly large hands, she randomly thought, as he covered one of her hands with his. He was waiting patiently. She knew he would wait through half the night if he had to; he wouldn't rush her, but he wouldn't let her off the hook either.

Mary stared at his feet, unwilling to look at him. He was barefoot and wearing old, tattered jeans. His toes were long and slender, like his fingers. He had rather nice feet. It wasn't every man that could pull off the barefoot look.

The silence stretched out until Marshall gently laced his fingers through hers. His anger at her had completely dissipated when he saw her distressed face as she tried to hammer out her apology. He recognized what it cost her to admit she was in the wrong, to offer contrition. Now he just wanted to comfort her.

She glanced up at him quickly and almost cried out at the worry and fear she saw in the blue depths of his eyes. _God only knows what he must be imagining. _Sucking in a deep breath, she steeled her nerve and looked at him. There wasn't going to be anything this man didn't know about her. Even the things she didn't want anyone to know about, she somehow ended up telling her partner.

"I had a fight with Jinx," she paused, holding out a slight hope he'd be satisfied. She took in his implacable face. No, not a chance he was letting it go at that. Familial fights were a weekly occurrence. No normal fight would send her in tears to her partner's house.

Marshall watched her pale face with concern and noted she was holding her arm across her stomach. She was pushing herself too much, too soon. She had only been released to return to work last week and this emotional struggle she was wrestling with was taking it's toll.

"Did you bring your pain meds with you?" The question threw her for a moment. She shook her head. They were in her bathroom medicine cabinet. Marshall quietly got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water. He shook out two tablets and handed them to her. Obediently swallowing the pills, she regarded him standing in front of her.

She cataloged the rips in his clothes: left knee, right thigh, t-shirt collar above the left clavicle. His shirt was damp with sweat and her tears. His five o'clock shadow and generally rumpled appearance couldn't have looked more wonderful to her

He sat down next to her again, trained sky blue eyes on her and prompted, "You had a fight with Jinx. What about?"

Mary's eyes slid away from his. She took in the half empty beer bottle on the coffee table; Shiner Bock._ Good choice. _She noticed the well worn copy of a book and her gaze sharpened as she read the title; Pride and Prejudice_. __Oh, Marshall. Sometimes I really do wonder about you. _She saw a CD case next to the book; ZZ Top_.__ Gaining back a few points. _She felt his quiet presence like a blanket, the old comfortable quilt that was knitted by your grandma. _He deserves an answer. I was blubbering in his arms._

"She wants me to quit my job." Marshall felt a small jolt. He couldn't help the flash of alarm that crossed his face. Mary gave a reassuring squeeze to his arm. "Then she wanted to know what it was that I did that was so important anyway. And of course I couldn't tell her. She made my shooting about her and Brandi and the distress they'd been through." Mary flushed. "Then I said if she'd ever held a job she'd understand better. She said she was a dancer and I said, 'No Mom, you used to dance, big difference.' I shouldn't have said that."

Mary's agitation was growing and Marshall squeezed her hand and nodded at her to go on.

"She said when she was in high school, she had been accepted to Julliard's dance program. She was all set to leave." Mary stopped and started to worry the bottom button of her shirt. Marshall closed his hand over hers and stilled her fingers. She sighed and continued in a monotone, focusing on Marshall's slender fingers, his neatly trimmed nails.

"She found out she was pregnant. Her parents made her give up Julliard and get married. She was only sixteen. She didn't become a dancer because of me. Instead of performing on the stage, she was changing diapers. Instead of hearing applause, she was hearing whining. Instead of learning lines, she was talking baby-talk. She didn't get to go to Julliard. She said she wanted to give me up for adoption, but her parents wouldn't let her. She didn't want me," her voice sank into a whisper as her face crumpled, and Marshall's stunned expression implied he wanted to follow suit.

He didn't know if Jinx had actually said the hurtful words, or if Mary had drawn a conclusion. _She didn't want me. _Either way, his heart was breaking for the damaged woman whom he had come to love. He gathered her in his arms as a fresh wave of tears started down her face. This explained a lot. Jinx's subtle resentment towards Mary. Her drinking. Loss of a dearly held dream was the beginning of the deadly slide into alcoholism for many people.

Marshall knew that this was a devastating revelation for Mary. She still reeled from the abandonment of her father. And to learn now that her mother didn't want her, that she was a mistake? The trembling woman in his arms was questioning her own identity, her self-worth. Another pillar of self-belief had been shaken. If even her own mother didn't want her, how could anyone else?

Marshall rubbed slow circles on her back. "Mary, listen to me." He was using his persuasive voice that cajoled witnesses into acceptance.

Mary's cheek was resting on the soft cotton of his worn shirt. She concentrated on the deep rumble in his chest as he spoke and was oddly comforted by it. The deep voice emanating from his slender body had been a surprise to her when they first met. Now it was an integral part of the package that was Marshall.

"You are not responsible for any actions your parents took. Being conceived was hardly under your control. Your mother's reaction was not unreasonable for a sixteen year old girl. Have you stopped to think she may have recognized she wasn't ready for motherhood and wanted you to have a better life?" He felt her body become still as Mary considered that possibility. She shook her head against him.

"No. Well maybe, but mostly she didn't want me messing up her plans. She was coerced into marriage and motherhood. She didn't want me." Mary's hands crept up his chest and grasped his shirt in her fists. "God, Marshall, I never even knew how old she was. She lied, she had alway told me that she was twenty-one when I was born. I never had reason to doubt that. I checked birth records today; it's true, she was sixteen.

Marshall breathed in the scent of her hair and prayed for guidance, to offer the right words. "She may have been trying to protect you. How would you have felt knowing she was so young?" He felt her stiffen again and hurriedly continued.

"Mary, please don't think that no one loves you. That's not true. Your mother loves you, even if her pregnancy may not have been planned. Your father loves you. You know that in your heart. Your sister loves you." He paused and swallowed, then continued slowly, "Raph loves you. I love you." He gently stroked her hair and placed his lips by her ear, "If you had been given up for adoption, we would never have met. I will always be grateful to Jinx for keeping you."

"What if that's why Daddy left, because he didn't want me either?" The broken whisper was like a red hot coal through Marshall's heart. He kissed the top of her head.

Marshall's steady voice calmed her, washing over her frayed nerves like a balm.

"You were not a mistake."

Mary's eyes fluttered closed. His hands were slowly rubbing up and down her arms. He smelled of pine wood, sweat and beer. Masculine smells. Odd how she had never thought of him as masculine before. But now, with his moist breath sighing over her ear, his firm hands keeping her anchored to him, his reassuring words helping her hang on to herself, all she wanted was to sink into the welcoming expanse of his chest, bury her face in his neck and breathe him in.

"Did you hear me? You were not a mistake. You did not destroy your mother's life. She made her own choices. You are not responsible for other's happiness or unhappiness." Mary gave in to the overwhelming need she felt to be comforted and snaked her arms around her partner's neck, laying her head on his shoulder. His hands clasped together around her waist, drawing her close in against him.

"People's lives are different because of you, Mary, their lives are better. You matter to your witnesses. You matter to me." The raw emotion in his voice was unmistakable. Marshall gently drew her arms down and stilled her trembling fingers in his large palms. He trailed light fingers over her cheek. "You matter, Sunshine." Peering into her face, he saw reluctant acceptance of his words and smiled crookedly.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" As she shook her head, Marshall disentangled himself from her and stood up. "I'm going to fix you a sandwich, and then we're going to talk some more, ok?" She shrugged, which he took as acceptance.

Returning a short time later with a tray, he stopped short and smiled. Mary was stretched out on the couch, snoring softly. Marshall placed the tray on the coffee table, lifted her feet, then sat down at the end of the sofa and settled her feet into his lap. He pulled her shoes off, picked up one foot, and started to rub. Her other foot rested against his thigh, right where his jeans were ripped. _How is it possible for a heel against my thigh to feel so erotic? A heel that is still clad in a sock? _

_Sc_hooling his thoughts as he gently massaged her toes, he considered the information he had learned tonight. This was going to be a tough one. He glanced over at her relaxed face and sighed. They were going to have to talk. He was pretty sure Mary picked up on something of his feelings, even through the fog of her own distress.

He looked down at his hands as he rubbed slow circles on the ball of her foot and grinned. Maybe he was having an influence on her after all. She was wearing spaceship socks.

The End


End file.
